


The fastest way to a witch's heart

by gootarts



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gootarts/pseuds/gootarts
Summary: ...Is through her stomach, of course! For those who have already reached her heart, however, the sentiment is still appreciated.





	The fastest way to a witch's heart

Beatrice is in the middle of reading something when Battler walks into the room, wearing an apron and carrying a couple bags of flour close to his body. 

“Beato.” She glances at him from above the cover, trying to judge why exactly he’s in here. This is the smoking parlor, not the kitchen, and while the Ars Goetia demons have been out on some sort of trip the past week or so, it’s not like Virgilia can’t cook for them. 

“Beato, can you help me?” He taps the top of her book, trying to get her attention a second later. “There’s samples in it for you.”

Samples? Without Virgilia’s lectures on how that food is for everybody and she shouldn’t eat all of it? The promise is tempting enough for her to stretch a little, mark her place in the book, and follow him into the kitchen, where there’s a plate with fresh bacon stacked on it. Jackpot.

“Virgilia can cook fine, you know.” Her husband laughs a little, before awkwardly rubbing the back of his head as she sneaks a hand over to the plate, picking out a couple pieces.

“Sorry, I’m just getting a little sick of mackerel. And you’ve got memories from Shannon and Kanon, right? Would they know how to read Ronove’s cookbooks or help me out?” He gestures to one of the open ones, which has been opened to a page on cooking some sort of quiche. Alongside homemade crust, to boot. 

“It’s…..more complicated than that.” This is, at the very least, an incredibly awkward conversation topic. Enough so that she grabs a block of cheese and dicing it into pieces, as per the instructions to avoid answering more. 

She has Yasu’s heart, yes. But each persona had been assigned traits specific to them. That worked out fine when it was one person piloting, but she, in her current state, was just one person. She had Shannon’s memories, but not the innate sense of when to take a dish out of the oven. The same went Kanon’s knowledge, but not his muscle memory. When she looked at a recipe, she could tell how to do them, but actually going through the motions would end in a scorched dish, at best. 

It was like watching a movie where the protagonist was a chef, in that way. You could watch cooking shows until your eyes bled, but it wouldn’t directly translate to being able to cook a delicious 5-tier wedding cake just by glancing at a cookbook. 

He seems to pick up on the withdrawl from the question pretty quickly, at least. It’s been maybe a month since they both closed the gameboard after Ange’s game. They’ve since grown more comfortable with the other’s presence in their life. She’s gotten used to sharing a bed with somebody, and waking up together instead of alone. And, tangentially related, learnt how to deal with blanket hogs (the solution was, of course, to cuddle up next to the dastardly thief).

Yasu is still a relatively sensitive topic, though, for the both of them. She knows that Battler still regrets not being able to save her in time. 

And then there’s still that feeling she’s still trying to parse. That disconnect between her and her. She is Beatrice the Endless first and foremost, but there’s still something that feels off about being a soul formed out of the mud by somebody else, for a single specific purpose. For better or for worse, it is something she has to live with. It’s like mortality: a fact of her existence. She is wholly a creation of somebody else, right down to her appearance. She cannot change that, and it is folly to try. She is both Yasu and not. She is one, yet many. 

“Thanks for the help, Beato.” She jolts out of her own thoughts as Battler pats her on the shoulder. And then a second later, grabs an extra apron from one of the drawers, fitting it over her head and tying it off behind her back before handing her an onion to be chopped. He then gets back to mincing the meat and combining some of the flour with other ingredients. 

It’s silent for a couple more moments, just the two of them chopping up food, before Battler speaks again.

“What’s cutting something in?”

“Mix it in. Use knives to cut it while it’s in the flour, and keep cutting it until it’s in small chunks.” Yasu’s knowledge comes in handy, mostly from memories of making cookies and other pastries for the family, up until Gohda took control of most of the cooking. That change in command was bittersweet; Yasu used to take such pride as Kanon when baking cookies for Jessica, back before the 1987 conference happened, even if she did have a tendency to occasionally screw up in the kitchen. Once Gohda had entered the island as a servant, she’d actually made efforts to try and actually learn how to cook, solely in order to make something Jessica would like. Genji hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Kanon had started to ask for time and ingredients to cook on days off. Yes, it would’ve been easy to just order something and say it was him, but that was the difference between Kanon and herself: even when he called himself furniture, Kanon had his pride. 

There’s a grunt of thanks from Battler for the instructions, before she remember that oh yes, they’re both witches. “Why can’t you just use magic to do this?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly fully gotten the hang of cooking magic yet. And it’s relaxing! Normally I had to clean the dishes and pans after cooking back at Asumu’s parents’ place, but now I can just leave that to magic!” There’s a second, unspoken part of it, written as clearly on his expression and posture as if somebody had taken a red pen and carved it upon his flesh: I wanted to spend time with you. He could’ve asked one of the Stakes or Virgilia instead of his wife, after all. 

It doesn’t exactly take a professional private investigator in order to figure out the man is a massive sap. It was a major part of the reason the entire Rokkenjima incident happened, after all. Beato decides to stay silent, just to see how he continues the train of thought; there was a good chance it would end in him getting flustered as his bad acting continued, perhaps culminating in a soft, whispered ‘because I like you, Beato.’

“And, well, I did the cooking for gramps and everybody because they were kinda letting me stay at their place, so I’m pretty used to it and think I might be able to pull off some of the kinda fancy stuff Ronove makes.” 

“And you thought your cute, helpful, lovely wife would be able to help?” He turns even redder at that. Perfect. She’s more than happy to help out even more if there’s flirting involved. 

“W-well, about that…...” He glances over and shoots her a grin as he continues preparing the food. “You’re conveniently the only person around who at least knows how kitchens work and won’t try to sabotage my cooking by eating it or putting something weird in it.” She grins as she gathers up all the chopped pieces, dumping them over onto his counter before playfully jostling him on the shoulder.

“What was it that you said during the sixth game, again? That you’d expect me to put poison in your cookies?” She sneaks a glance over at the open cookbook, and at the table in front of Battler: he doesn’t have the bacon chopped yet. So she nabs a couple of them off the table. On the second twilight, gouge the pig and kill. 

“You’re going to be eating this too!” He sets down the pastry blender and bowl he’s holding for a second in order to lightly tap her on the head before returning to the task at hand. It’s enough of a distraction for her to snatch the cutting board and relocate it to the same countertop her husband is using, not that he particularly seems to mind. 

When it comes down to it, Battler is surprisingly deft in the kitchen. Using Yasu’s memories as a guide, she can at least do basic prep work-cutting, measuring, that sort of thing. Actual cooking, though is beyond her. So yes, maybe she's sneaking a glance over at the redhead. He’s not as elegant as Ronove, but there’s a deftness to his movements that’s at least enjoyable to follow. 

And of course the damned man notices her watching and immediately starts to show off, almost like Gohda would when Natsuhi walked into the kitchen. It’s nothing fancy at first; spinning the bowl in place in order to whisk it, tossing ingredients in without looking at them, tossing an egg back and forth between his hands-

Battler misses catching the egg.

The egg falls onto the floor.

There is now a white-and-yellow pile of goop on the ground.

Her husband grins sheepishly before snapping his fingers, dissipating the yolky mess in a swarm of golden butterflies before he decides that maybe going about this the normal, conventional way is the best method to cook. This is probably for the best; the incident over a year ago, with Yasu at the wheel as she’d tried to make chocolates for White Day, replays in earnest in her head. An unskilled witch adding magic to food almost always ended poorly: ingredients gaining limbs and flying around the room was but one of the possible accidents that could result from improperly adding it into a recipe. 

Once those are chopped, she moves on to prepare the next part as Battler does the more intensive parts of the recipe. 

“Aaaand done!” The redhead leans back a little, admiring his handiwork. The crust is flattened and blended, ready for refrigeration. He chucks it into the fridge, with one of Ronove’s novelty timers set on top of the stove to ring when the bread has properly risen. In some sort of fit of irony, the demon had decided to use one shaped like a bomb to time his cooking. 

As Battler sets the timer, he’s more or less occupied with it, and completely unprepared for Beato not-so-sneakily sneaking a kiss on his cheek. He tenses up when he feels her lips touch him, but it takes a second to connect the presence of his lovely, charming wife softly snickering as she backs away to the kiss. When he does connect the dots as his fingers gently brush his cheek, his face is priceless, halfway between a smile and a laugh.

“You!” Her dress isn’t great for running, but she’s a couple meters away by now, grinning. “Get back here!”

It’s not an angry declaration, more matching the tone of somebody whose friend has just given them a particularly terrible pun. She cackles, dashing further away and glancing over her shoulder. He’s slowly tailing her, towards the center of the kitchen.

“Are you telling me that you can’t take what you dish out, Beato!?!” They’re both ducking behind opposite sides of the island in the middle of the kitchen now, and Battler’s mischievous grin is almost splitting his face, no doubt planning some sort of counterstrike sneak attack in which she, the evil, cunning witch gets her comeuppance by having to take the savage attack has has just unleashed upon poor, adorable, innocent Battler tenfold onto her cheeks. 

“I’m a centuries-old witch! I can withstand anything you throw at me!”

“Throw at you? Ihihi, I don’t think that’s quite right. I think a certain somebody wants her kiss just now returned...!" A wedge of blue appears shimmering above his open palm, before darting over to her. She can tell immediately that it’s guided, and aimed straight for the wrist sleeve on her dress. It connects, but it doesn’t hurt or draw blood as it grazes her arm, unlike the existence-denying wedges both of them were able to use. The edge is dull, and not meant to injure. It would be child's play to just grab it and chuck it back at him barehandedly.

In other words, chucking them at each other was no more dangerous than indoor soccer. Or, perhaps more fitting, she has just had a foam dart fired at her. 

“Acknowledged.” The glowing blue wedge disappears under the force of absolute truth, and she shoots him a grin. The best, most enjoyable way to respond here would be with exactly what her husband has just targeted her with. “Now, let’s see...Battler Ushiromiya asked for help in order to spend time with his beloved wife!” The stake she materializes is a little different: not guided, more like a dart than a missile, but still dull enough to be harmless. She hurls it, and he barely dodges as it lodges in one of the cupboards above his ducked head. Not a big deal. She can just magic it back into place later. 

“You can’t dodge forever, Battleeeeeer!” Another wedge appears in her hand, a second after a matching one appears in Battler’s. “Repeat it! Battler Ushiromiya asked for help in order to spend time with his beloved wife!” There aren’t too many blue truths out there for this situation that would be mildly embarrassing but cute and sweet to admit to, and her husband has just used one of them on her! It’s only fair that she return the favor!!! She launches the spear at him, and once again, it misses, lodging itself in the wall.

“You really should work on your aim, Beato. Or were you trying to miss me?” Then, in a daring, unheard-of display of nerve, he grins as he sticks out his tongue and laughs as the third stake whizzes past his ribs. It would be easy for her to summon them to track him, or take off like a bullet, but that would actually hurt him. There’s an unspoken rule here, a golden truth that either of them could speak if they really wanted to: neither of them wants in injure the other. That truth, like her movements on the gameboard, guides their actions. 

The two of them are poised like two dogs playfighting on opposite sides of the island now, standing stock-still as they try to anticipate the other’s movements. They’re like that, standing motionless and waiting for the other to make a move, for a moment or two. It’s hard to tell-all she knows is the feeling of firing off her blue truth when she sees him twitch to fire his. 

And then, he abruptly changes tactics when she gets close enough, from dodging and running to quickly closing the distance between the two, before grabbing her right hand and kneeling. And then, slowly, raising the hand to his lips. There’s that goofy grin on his face as he starts to softly talk to her. 

“Got you!” Before she can pull away (not that she would want to, not when she’s having so much fun), he starts trailing feather-light kisses up from her knuckles to her wrist, before standing up, gently pulling her in. “This is revenge for that kiss!” 

“Hoh?” She meets him as he stands up, gently nuzzling his face with hers before he goes for her face. She can feel the heat of his skin, the warmth of his breath on her face as he gently starts pecking at her cheeks. 

Naturally, she won’t be outdone. A few sloppy kisses are given to him edgewise as she grabs onto his shoulders, trying to get him closer and closer, their bodies touching as she starts going for his jaw, his neck, until…

Virgilia walks into the kitchen, likely to prepare dinner.

Virgilia notes the messy kitchen, the blue truths wedged into corners in the room, and the couple in the middle of making out, and sighs.

At least the quiche was still useable.


End file.
